the pages folded in military percision.
the edges pointed in a spear like style.
the effort, effortless.
the marvelling at its crisp white wings.
the class room, stands in awe, as it sails through the air,
balancing precariously on the sound waves.
my paper plane, glouriously gliding across the open space.
free to fly, free to exist. free and uncontrolled.
The teacher, furiously, stomps the crispness from the wings.
Ending the flight, ending the crowning glory of the class, sinking to the bottom of the bin,
like the titanic....